


the best people in life are free

by punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is it anyone’s birthday? Anyone else’s anniversary? Nobody died?” James asks, receiving three head shakes in the negative, and shrugs. “Right. September eighteenth. I’ll get the papers from the office tomorrow, we’ll file them the day after. And then, you get to be Mrs. Lily Potter forever.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the best people in life are free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EliteDelieght](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/gifts).



> Wrote this while listening to New Romantics. Is it obvious?

When James returns from the hospital in mid September of 1979, bloody, bandaged wand arm still in a sling, his first action is to take the calendar off the wall and set it down on the table.

The paper slaps against the wood, rousing Lily from her intense focus on the crossword. A crossword that James hasn’t left half-finished for her in weeks. That had been at the forefront of her mind, when he was stuck in that strange place between life and death for the last few weeks. Not how she would go on without him, but that crossword, lying empty every day until she touched it. The tiny expressions of love that all stacked up, culminating in this ridiculous daily thing that brought tears to her eyes now that it was gone. How would she live without that?

“Let’s get married”, he says, remembering Lily’s tears from when he’d finally woken up. He remembers the way her hands, paler than usual, had grabbed for his own, as if she'd been waiting forever. Two weeks, he'd learned later, was close enough to be forever. “That way, this doesn’t happen again.” He motions to his arm, right hand clumsily slapping his upper arm as he winces. He doesn’t know how hard it was for her to wait outside, to be told that she couldn’t see him because they weren’t related, doesn’t know how they stared, doesn’t know how they judged, doesn’t know how they—

“Why now?” She asks, breaking herself out of her thoughts. Lily Evans has never needed a hero—she’s got that in herself. “If you’re doing this because you think I need protecting—“

“I’m doing this…” James begins, voice calm and steady. She hardly knows this new James, who has emerged from the shell of the boy that she fell in love with, but she knows she is the same way. War has taken them both, shaped them into something new and foreign, but they are still in love. That is no small mercy, and every day they wake up together is one more moment to fight for. “So that if either of us gets hurt again, we can at least be together. And really, out of the two of us, I’m really far more likely to end up dead.”

“Right.” Lily nods, trying not to look upset even as her brain conjures up images of James, her James, glassy eyed on the floor. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and he leans over the back of the chair she is sitting in to rest his head beside hers, jawbone pressed up against her cheek. He’s here, solid and real, and she puts her hand over his to prove it. “When?”

“Let’s pick a date, shall we?” He presses a kiss to the top of her head before returning to stare at the calendar. The warmth of him, which had settled into her clothes while he’d been pressed up against her, is suddenly gone. The loss settles in the pit of her stomach like some sort of persistent ache, and she fully believes he has disappeared until she notices him right in front of her, moving his finger in circles around the boxes denoting September. “You always did want an autumn wedding.”

She remembers telling him this when they were seventeen, and still desperately pretending that the war outside the walls of Hogwarts would never reach them. It was hardly something she’d put emphasis on, but she knows James holds her words too close to his heart, always has, and could probably recite every conversation they’ve had if she asked. She wonders what words she will remember him by, if he leaves, and curses herself for having such morbid thoughts when her boyfriend, no, fiancé now, is trying to find a day for them to marry.

James squeezes eyes shut for a second, lips pursed, and she is about to ask whether he’s in pain before his finger stills on one box. He opens his eyes, smiling softly. “September eighteenth. Sounds good to you?”

“James, that’s in two days.” Lily says, wondering whether he understands that picking a date at random isn’t usually the best strategy.

“Is it anyone’s birthday? Anyone else’s anniversary? Nobody died?” James asks, receiving three head shakes in the negative, and shrugs. “Right. September eighteenth. I’ll get the papers from the office tomorrow, we’ll file them the day after. And then, you get to be Mrs. Lily Potter forever.”

“I don’t know if that’s a privilege or a problem.” He laughs readily at her quip, as he’s always done, and walks back over to her, resuming the hug he’d abruptly ended earlier. “I can’t believe it. James Potter, nearly a married man.”

“I can’t believe it either. Lily Evans wants to marry _me_.” He moves to press another kiss to Lily’s head, but his lips barely graze her temple, his chin bumping her ear. “Maybe not anymore.”

“Maybe never.” Lily says, and she can feel his jaw drop. “I’m kidding, love.”

“Try a little harder with your kidding, next time.” She can practically hear the pout in his voice, and reaches up to ruffle his hair. She can feel it stand stiff where she's played with it, and wonders if there are children in their future, kids with her eyes and James' messy hair who play Quidditch (and read sometimes, hopefully, but with James' genes in the mix, nothing is certain). “Besides, if we get married, our kids can be legal _and_ hot.”

“I don’t know about the hot part. Have you seen yourself in the morning?” She rolls her eyes when he huffs. “Oh, please, like any kid of ours could end up _too_ weird looking.”

“We should get at least one Quidditch player.” James says, as if that is the most important thing about children. “Hopefully. If we don’t, we’ll just have another one.”

“We should get married first, you know.” Lily says, as James affectionately nuzzles her neck. He’s probably bent halfway over at this point, like the pump on one of Petunia’s ridiculous scented lotion bottles. Of course, he probably would gain nothing from that statement, having never seen her sister’s collection, but having private jokes every so often was a good thing. “Before we plan out our childrens’ lives.”

“September eighteenth.” He says the words like some long held ambition is being achieved, and she realizes that it probably is. James has always been about commitment, about real, solid goals, and this must be something he’s been mulling over for awhile. But that is the beauty of them, she reasons, because while James is prone to thinking over the big picture ages before anyone else, he never acts without a push. And Lily Evans is excellent at being the hard punch to the stomach that he needs.

“We make a good team”, she says, instead of repeating the date. She can feel his smile in the way his cheek moves against hers.

“Yeah.” He says, and for a moment, they’re just two teenagers in love who just want paper proof, rather than two adults doing this to gain medical power of attorney. Although, she supposes, there’s no reason that they can’t be both. “We make a good team.”


End file.
